Calhoun's Can(n)ons for May 29, 2010
It was then, of course, her true predicament became clear. Jane Austin would have understood perfectly. Lady Emma was like an aristocrat fallen on hard times, down on her uppers and forced to take a position as governess in the shabby household of a greengrocer and his brood of thuggish Basenjis in a slovenly hovel where she would be forced to give lessons all day and sleep in the garret at night. It was simply too horrible to contemplate.
At seventeen, her guestimated age, she finally went down. Worn out, struck with a brief bout of diarrhea, her system shut down, she quickly slipped into unconsciousness and a day later, while I sat with her telling her what a good girl she had been, she died. No muss. No fuss. Exactly how an aristocrat would handle this whole messy business of dying.
And not a Basenji in sight.